“GOD DAMNIT!” he roared, as he flopped around in the bed like a freshly-caught bass in the bottom of a boat. “THAT’S IT … I CAN’T SLEEP ON THESE SHEETS ANYMORE! WE’VE GOT TO BUY NEW SHEETS.”
My husband has a festering hatred for something he calls “fuzz balls” that seem to develop on all of our sheets after two or three washings. In a way, it is like the fairy tale about the princess and the pea. You could hide one itsy bitsy fuzz ball on a California King sized sheet, and my husband would find it.
So these sheets, which have about 578,000 fuzz-balls, drive him absolutely wiggy.
We’ve tried to find sheets that don’t develop fuzz-balls. It’s been my quest since we’ve been married actually. It’s not so much as because I love him, which I do. It’s mostly because I want to sleep until 5.
We asked for sheets for our wedding, and got a nice set from his sister. In a matter of DAYS, the first fuzz-ball appeared. And the flopping started.
I went to J.C. Penneys and bought a new set of sheets for $100. They were 400 thread count, ultra everything. It took a whole month, but once the fuzz balls started, they multiplied like Tribbles.
My mom spent a mint on another set of sheets … FUZZ.
We bought yet another set … this one said it was “DURABLE” and had “OPTIMUM COMFORT.” Then it happened. Everywhere a FUZZ FUZZ. There remains only one small square that is fuzz-free. I sometimes curl up in the fetal position and rub my cheek against it, remembering the bliss of when we first brought them home.
I don’t know if our bed is cursed with fuzz fairies. I don’t know if our body produces fuzz balls while we’re sleeping. I don’t know if my dryer is to blame, or maybe my fabric softener. I’ve tried varying temperatures, detergents, spin cycles. I’ve tried EVERYTHING, yet we are still plagued by them.
My husband has actually tried SHAVING the fuzz off our sheets as well. But the defiant little bastards clung stubbornly to the sheets, mocking him. I thought I could hear them laughing. I think they may be aliens. Little, tiny, fuzzy aliens that came back on the space shuttle and can not be destroyed.
Today, I went to Linens ‘N Things and begged the sales woman to show me sheets that were fuzz-ball proof. Price was no object, I said. As long as they repelled aliens, and fuzz fairies, I added.
The woman looked at me with pity … and a little fear. Then she took me into a secret room, and unlocked a secret cupboard where they keep the really good sheets they don’t want normal people to know about. They have to break you first, she explained. Only then can you be worthy. Only then can you truly appreciate a fuzz-free sleep.
They are a thing of beauty. Pristine, soft, luxurious and smooth as a newborn's tushy. A beautiful white aura seems to surround them, and if I listen closely, I think I can hear angels singing when I touch them. My husband and I took turns spooning with them tonight. We are considering a three-some later.
I want to think our horror is over, now. But I can’t help but think it is just a matter of time before we are tested again.
It is our curse. Our fuzzy little curse.